Eye of the Raven (32 page)

‘
So you killed him in case he started talking about it?’

‘
Christ no, I didn’t give a damn about the Summers case. It was nothing to do with me. All I did was not ask a few questions.’

‘
Did you tell John Merton about Lee’s call?’

‘
As a matter of fact I did.’

‘
So you’re still in touch with him?’

‘
He runs the website.’

‘
And finds the customers?’

‘
No comment.’

‘
Where can I find him?’

‘
I haven’t seen him in ages.’

‘
Then how?’

‘
Through the website. Aren’t computers wonderful?’

‘
So he could be anywhere?’

‘
You got it. Can I have the card now?’

Steven handed over the card without another word and left the cell.

‘
How d’you get on?’ asked McClintock when Steven entered.

‘
Real good, how about you?’

‘
The news went down like a shit sandwich but you couldn’t really expect anything else,’ said McClintock. ‘However, our illustrious leader has come to terms with the situation and has switched his attention to damage limitation. He pointed out that we could do a lot to minimise the harm to the force’s reputation if we get a quick result with Verdi and his pals. He’s thinking along the lines of, “Edinburgh’s finest solve prostitute’s murder and smash international porn ring. Oh, and by the way, we locked up the wrong man for eight years.”’

Steven nodded and took out a piece of paper from his wallet. He handed it to McClintock. ‘This may help.’

‘
What’s this?’ asked McClintock, reading out the numbers on it.

‘
I promised Mr Verdi that I wouldn’t say a word about it to the police,’ said Steven.

‘
Christ, these are account numbers!’ exclaimed McClintock. ‘They couldn’t be Ver . . .’

‘
My lips are sealed,’ said Steven.

‘
But where? . . .’ began McClintock. ‘Shit, they were in the tin, weren’t they? Tracy’s tin,’ he said. ‘And you held on to them?’

‘
I needed an edge,’ said Steven.

‘
You made some sort of a deal with him?’

‘
He told me what I wanted to know about his arrangement with the forensic lab and I gave him Tracy’s card back without saying a word to the police. I didn’t say I wouldn’t give you a copy of the numbers and let you work it out for yourselves.’

‘
Remind me not to buy a used car from you, Dunbar.’

‘
You’ve started the hunt for Merton?’ asked Steven.

‘
It’s under way. We managed to get his old staff photo from departmental records at the university. It’s years out of date but better than nothing. It’s already been sent out.’

‘
Maybe I could have a copy?’ asked Steven.

‘
A keepsake?’ said McClintock.

‘
I want to see what evil looks like,’ said Steven.

‘
If only you could tell,’ said McClintock. ‘It’d sure make the job a whole lot easier.’

Steven picked up the photograph that McClintock slid across his desk and nodded, ‘Wouldn’t it just,’ he said. He was looking at the photograph of a man in his early thirties with nothing to suggest what he might be capable of. He wouldn’t have attracted a second glance in a bus queue.

‘
He’s still involved with Verdi,’ said Steven. ‘But Verdi maintains he doesn’t know where he is. He says they communicate through the website that Merton runs as a front for the porn business. He runs his legit business the same way. You might be able to trace him through that but I have my doubts. Merton’s no fool when it comes to computers.’

‘
Shit, he could be in California,’ said McClintock, ‘or Thailand or anywhere. This just aint gonna be easy. Maybe I’ll have another go at Verdi about him. He must have a base somewhere.’

‘
Have you thought what you’re going to do about Little’s wife?’ asked Steven. ‘Someone’s going to have to tell her.’

‘
I’ve been pushing it to the back of my mind,’ admitted McClintock. ‘But you’re right. She shouldn’t have to read it in the papers. It’s funny; I’m not sure if she’ll see it as good news or not. I mean, how do we tell her that the husband she divorced and left all these years ago was innocent all along? . . .’

Steven grimaced and remembered how upset she’d become when he’d brought up the possibility of the porn on Little’s computer having been a plant. ‘She’s going to need some kind of support,’ he said.

‘
Do you think there’s any chance your people could deal with this?’ asked McClintock. ‘I hate to ask but somehow I think the less she sees of the Edinburgh police in the circumstances, the better.’

‘
I’ll have a word with John Macmillan,’ said Steven.

‘
Does she know Little’s got AIDS?’

Steven shook his head. ‘That’s another little surprise to add to the package,’ he said.

‘
Christ, what a fucking mess,’ said McClintock, letting his head drop forward on to his chest and rubbing his temples with his fingertips. ‘Do you think that bastard Merton has any idea what he did?’

‘
It’s my fear that he does,’ said Steven. ‘When Little told me how Merton didn’t believe that he was really doing anything wrong when he was caught selling corpse glands, I saw the warning signs. No conscience; the sure fire trade-mark of the psychopath’

‘
Another psycho. My cup overflows,’ said McClintock.

‘
Well, I’ve got a report to write,’ said Steven, getting up to go. ‘And then I’ll have to start thinking about when I’m going to head south.’

‘
Will you manage a pint before you go?’

‘
I’m not sure,’ said Steven.

McClintock got up and came over to Steven with his hand held out. ‘I can’t say it’s been a pleasure,’ he said shaking hands with a smile. ‘But I’ve got a lot of respect for you, Dunbar.

‘
And vice versa,’ said Steven. ‘Maybe we’ll see each other again.’

‘
If you’re thinking of re-opening any of our old cases, let me know and I’ll put in for early retirement on medical grounds,’ said McClintock.

‘
Let me know how you get on with Verdi and his pals.’

‘
Will do.’

As he left McClintock’s office, Steven saw Santini at the end of the corridor. He was coming towards him but the moment he caught sight of him the policeman put his hand to his head – a theatrical gesture, as if he’d just remembered something - turned on his heel and headed off in the other direction.

‘
Missing you already,’ said Steven under his breath.

The good feeling that Steven usually got at the end of an assignment was entirely missing when he’d finished writing up his report. There were just so many wrongs that could not be put right. David Little would be freed but he was a dying man and the contribution that his brilliant mind might have made to medical science had been lost for ever. Even if he were to go into remission and get some respite from the relentless onslaught of AIDS, it would be difficult if not impossible for former friends and colleagues, who had universally shunned him since the time of his arrest, to start behaving as if nothing had happened.

There was also a nightmare in waiting for Charlotte Little and her daughters when it came to meeting Little face to face for the first time in over eight years. Could Charlotte even bring herself to go through with it at all? he wondered. But whether she did or not, Steven could see that society would turn against her when the full story emerged. The overwhelming evidence against Little at the time would be forgotten in an instant and the papers would cast her in the role of the woman who didn’t stand by her man. To the tabloids, she and her daughters would be the Railway Children family who’d driven off into the sunset as soon as daddy was arrested. Life was about to deliver Charlotte Little yet another kick in the teeth.

It wasn’t as if she’d managed to find happiness in the years after Little went to prison, thought Steven. She’d been forced by the press to live as a recluse for a long time after the trial and God knows what hell her children had had to endure at school when their classmates had found out who they were. Daughters of a child killer? It didn’t bear thinking about. Even when Charlotte had got enough confidence back to re-establish a social life, she’d met up with somebody who’d knocked her about and cheated her out of all her money. Jesus! Take a look at life again soon.

Steven wasn’t quite sure what to suggest to Sci-Med when it came to informing Charlotte. He was afraid that his original notion of requesting some kind of support for her would translate into a woman PC making tea. A nice cup of tea, the British panacea for all ills. World’s coming to an end? Best put kettle on, love . . .

The only positive thing that Steven could see in the situation was the fact that Charlotte had a supportive family behind her. Her mother and father were genuinely nice people who cared deeply for their daughter and had stood by her through thick and thin. It couldn’t have been easy for them being associated with a child murderer at the time when the case was all over the papers. He just hoped that they would have the energy to stand by her all over again. Maybe he should warn them in advance?

Steven made a decision. He would not ask Sci-Med to send along strangers to tell Charlotte Little. He would go to Norfolk and tell her himself. At least he appreciated how strong the evidence against her husband had been and understood why she had had no alternative but to believe that her husband was guilty – after all, he himself had been convinced of that at the outset. He hoped that he’d be able to reassure her that she shouldn’t blame herself. Telling her that her Little had AIDS was however, going to be something else entirely.

Next day, with his final report finished and submitted to Sci-Med and his request for a few days leave granted, Steven arranged for flowers to be sent to Susan Givens and Samantha Egan, with a note of thanks to each. He handed back the keys of his rented car, checked out of his hotel, and returned to London on an evening BA shuttle. Once there, he went directly to his flat to spend the night before driving up to Norfolk in the morning.

As always, when he opened the door of his flat after being away for a while, he was struck by the still, silent, cold of the place but he quickly headed off maudlin thoughts of times past by switching on the lights and turning on the heating and television to provide warmth and noise as quickly as possible.

There was no food in the fridge or bread in the bin but his trusty stalwarts, gin and tonic were available so he downed a couple before heading out to pick up some Chinese food from the Jade Garden. A supermarket trip could wait until he came back from Norfolk. He ate the food in front of the television while he caught up on the news and gave the water heater time to do its job.

The Channel 4 news at seven reported the arrest of a sauna owner in Edinburgh for the murder of a prostitute found dead on the shores of the Firth of Forth. He’d been charged along with two other men who were also thought to have been implicated. The sauna boss was also under investigation over his involvement in the running of an international pornography ring and further charges against him were pending.’

‘
Bingo,’ murmured Steven. He was relieved to hear that there was no mention yet of the David Little miscarriage of justice.

Almost as if an adjunct to the news, Steven’s phone rang: it was Peter McClintock.

‘
Congratulations,’ said Steven. ‘I just saw it on the news.’

‘
I tried ringing you earlier,’ said McClintock. ‘You must have been on the plane. Having Verdi’s assets frozen did the trick. His two heavies saw things differently when we told them a 100% wage freeze was about to be implemented and their boss was looking for legal aid. They argued a bit but finally one coughed but said the killing was down to Verdi. The other one was keen to agree with that.’

‘
There was no mention of the snuff videos on the news,’ said Steven.

‘
That’s proving problematical,’ said McClintock. ‘The Fiscal’s office has pointed out that actresses die on the screen every day. Getting a jury to believe that it was for real in this case demands that we come up with the bodies and we will. It’s just a question of finding the weakest link among the names that Tracy left us. Somebody must know something.’

‘
I wish you luck,’ said Steven.

‘
I guess you’re glad to be out of it,’ said McClintock.

‘
Just one more thing to do,’ said Steven. ‘I’m going to tell Charlotte Little personally about her husband. I’m going up there tomorrow.’

‘
You’re a good man, Charlie Brown,’ said McClintock. ‘What made you decide to do that?’

Steven told him.

‘
Then I wish
you
luck,’ said McClintock. ‘I’ll let you know if there are any developments.’

The battery in Steven’s own car, a dark green MGF, had gone flat with standing in the garage unused. The starter motor barely managed to turn over the engine.

‘
Been lying for a while?’ asked one of his neighbours who had been about to drive off when he’d heard the final turn of the Steven’s starter fade into nothingness. ‘These car alarms use up more juice than you’d think. Want to borrow my charger?’